Friends in Space; a Sab Nino Fanfic

Friends in Space

   For the good of the republic, for the good of the people, we march under the banner of the hawk. . ." droned on the brigade as they marched in the parade, down the streets of New Valencha behind Emperor Nameless himself. I was in the ranks, marching with my shield brothers as fireworks lit up the bare sunless sky, neon lights of the west-martian colony burned brighter than the soulless eyes of the impoverished serfs, too exhausted from the hours of toiling in the martian potato fields to pay much mind to the rally of the imperial army before setting off on another campaign. Every now and then I'd catch the glimmer in the eye of the one energized young artist, or the gaze of a curious child looking on in awe of this spectacle they've never seen before. I used to consider that very gaze the one I fought for, but as the years went on, with these ruthless conquests of territories we seldom need, as the demand for labor occupied every span of citizenship below the governmental elite and such beauracrats to uphold our vast military presence, it was a gaze I seldom saw anymore, an increasingly rare and endangered species. It was this moment, during this march before the second Martian war, was I disillusioned with the state of the republic.     You had two choices in life, and even then it wasn't as much as choosing as much as your parents. If your father was a soldier, then congratulations - in exchange for dying for the republic you become a rich man. If your father was a nobody, then you were a nobody and your life is your farm. But of course because the republic couldn't rely solely on it's infinitely wise system of the sons of soldiers becoming soldiers, levies were often inacted to conscript serfs such as myself to serve in the army. The inner republic, or should I say, the royal family, was impenetrable - state officials were so because of their fathers and fathers before. Scientists and other such manner of tax men are the result of decades of academic study (and indeed treasonous front lines evasion) and connections made with government officials - the expenses that entailed doing such life manuvers required support from an exceptionally wealthy family, which again are usually already state officials of head-of-industries. With this, the government has been effectively the same for 800 years, with the same people in the same places, save for the rare genius here and there such as Sharise Sofa who's innovations are accredited to her husband for developing more effecient methods of containing unearthly and toxic environments, or the reknown Seth Exxon of The Great Albany House who developed Arcadite, the easily mass-produced compound (of Helsium and Chimblinite X, the latter being a prototype of Arcadite) notorious for it's immense pressure-resisrant properties that allow for deep sea and deep space travel with a combat effective edge, being likewise very heat resistant and practically immune to most conventional plasma-based firearms. These people, though, were far from the average man in the republic.

      Our granite-colored Arcadite boots stomped against the rain-wettened roads - snapping out of my march hypnosis as my focus turns back to the present. We're outside of the city now, and the Emperor, being carried in his chair by his royal servicemen addresses us, First Martian Battalion. Nameless, wrinkled in his seemingly infinite age coughed against his fist before his eyes looked us over. "As you know by now, you are divided into 3 ranks - Dan will be the exalted commander and will have will of the positioning of each of them. The rank commanders will defer to her supreme stratagem but will act autonomously in how to execute it. You are to take the city of Yarbarium and garrison its fortification until the fourth and fifth battalions arrive. Intelligence reports the city is walled with electromagnetic fences that will need to be disabled by second rank's Battle Engineer Resources. First rank, you will engage any response army while this is happening. Third rank will stay in reserve and use The Arnaments to engage response fire from any offensive actions from the city's garrison. The city is living off last spring's crops, they won't hold out long. Now go." With that the Emperor was carried off, departing on his imperial Vespasian 3XI Imperial Starship.

     We got into our ranks, I part of the first, and stood at the attention of Dan. "LINE FORMATION..." She shouted. My mind seemed to recoil at the harshness of her voice, memories subliminally lapsing at how much she has changed - this Dan, clad in the power armor of an imperial general, Arcadite plating thicker than ours with some cybernetic augmentations, that acted as a sort of battlefield multitool, being able to increase her voice's volume, a plasma torch for cutting through metals that also had a combat setting, and amongst the more visually ominous, a specially designed combat mask - a badge of office, that requires surgery to take on and off properly . It connected into her nervous system and absolved her of searing pain while increasing the part of her mind that makes tactical calculations by 35%. I remember when she confided her fear about having to wear it fir the first time so many years ago, and truth be told I shared her concern. Seeing the changes it has etched into her being, well, I shouldn't have encouraged her. Dan pounded her laser-rimmed baton to the ground, catching the attention of her subordinates. I gritted my teeth. "MARCH, MAGGOTS!" She shouted, and march we did.